WBY Heat In My Seat
by wildblueyonder6
Summary: John, Dean & Sam Winchester. PG-15 for teen sexing. A little angstier & sexier than my normal stuff. Dean's horny & he's met his match. Unfortunately for him things don't work out the way he plans. Contains parental spanking please don't read if it offends. I MEAN THIS. I don't want you to read & then complain about it. Just don't read.


Title: Heat In My Seat

Characters: John, Sam and Dean

Word count: 3,926

Summary: A little angstier and sexier than my normal stuff girls. Dean's horny and he's met his match. Unfortunately for him things don't work out the way he plans.

Rating: PG 15 for a little teen sexing.

Genre: Gen/het

Dean's aware that he's a bit of a rogue. He plays to it. It's fun. Besides, it keeps the morons out of the way for the most part. Bullies seldom really have the guts to go after a real threat and Dean isn't just a threat, he's a promise. He works it in every look, every swaggering step and every non-committed shrug that he aims at teachers, other kids and anyone in authority. He's careful not to step over the line, 'cause Dad is a hard ass so he keeps it pretty much clean. It's a beautiful thing, all that macho in a sixteen year old, but mostly it's about the girls.

Girls love bad boys. They have since the beginning of time. Bad girls, good girls, pony tailed cheerleaders and doe eyed geeks. Dean loves them all. Dean is always new meat in every school they hit and it is that very novelty that makes him all the more desirable.

So he occasionally has to throw a punch to make his case with the boys but with the girls? He just licks his lips and wears his jeans just a little to tight, his shirts a tad too small and when he reaches for a book in whatever library they may be in, he knows that everyone is looking at that tan skim of skin that shows between his jeans and his t-shirt.

Dean Winchester if fucking sex on a stick.

If Dad notices, he doesn't say much. Except that when he turned fourteen and caught him researching sex ed in a bathroom diner outside of Des Moines with a sixteen year old. He'd handed him a box of condoms and told him he better keep it covered. Every. Single. Time.

He also told him to watch what the fuck he was doing and he better never disrespect a girl, that no was fucking no and he better not get his ass caught doing anything he shouldn't be. That allowed a lot of leeway as far as Dean was concerned.

Helluva sex education talk but it was effective.

Still, Dean's no idiot. There are certain things that he just needs to back away from.

Things like Josie Doherty. Because Josie's dad is Sheriff Doherty and that is off limits. As far off limits as anything can be.

Dean knows it. He is aware. Bu Josie is all red hair and blue eyes and she has her own swagger. She wears her jeans just a little too tight and her shirts just a tad too small and when she reaches for a book in whatever library they may be in, she knows that everyone is looking for that tan skim of skin that shows between her jeans and her t-shirt.

Josie Doherty is Dean Winchester with red hair and boobs. They are drawn together like moths to a flame. They find each other in the cafeteria, in the hallway between classes, in the stairwell on the second floor and the janitor's closet on the first.

Dean is flirting with disaster.

He knows it as well as he knows his own name. And he knows his dad will kill him. Like dead. Because Winchesters don't play with sheriff's daughters. Not during a hunt. Not anytime really.

When Dad says, "Keep your head down, son." he means exactly what he says and Josie is as far from head down as a boy can get.

Dean's downstairs brain twitches at the thought of his head being down, nestled in red curls and he almost comes at the thought.

He needs Josie as bad as she needs him.

So in the janitor's closet with his hand down her those tight jeans she breathes into his neck, "Tonight, Dean. My house. The folks are gone. Be there at 11:30." Well, Dean can't say no. In fact he can barely talk. So he sucks on her neck in response and mumbles "Sure babe."

Dean can't help it. It's physical and there is nothing he can do.

But Dad is home and has been for a week.

Having Dad home is normally a good thing. Less stress, not worrying about him coming back bloody or not at all. Training is ramped up and Sam bitches sometimes but overall, Dean likes it. But it makes it problematic for sneaking out on a Thursday night.

Because going out to dig graves on a Thursday night? No problem. Going out to fuck Josie Doherty? Big problem.

Not that Dean can't sneak out. He can. Out the window, off the gentle sloping roof and down the tree. Coming back is no problem either. Dean is a fucking ninja.

But there is always the possibility that Dad could find out. Some how. Some way.

Dad can not find out.

Sammy won't talk. Never. Sam wouldn't rat him out but their father is…well, he's a Marine, and a hunter and he's vigilant. He might check on the boys, he might hear the scuff of sneaker on roof. It is a gamble.

A big one.

But Dean doesn't care.

Well, he cares a little bit because Dad will tan his ass. Dad won't care if he's sixteen, won't care if he's in lust, won't care if Dean's hard on won't go away. Nope. He will whup him if he finds out. And it won't be pretty.

So Dean has to make sure that he doesn't find out.

XXX

Dean sprays his pits with deodorant and runs a hand through his hair.

"Where are you going?" Sam asks, head lifting from a stupid book he probably doesn't even have to read.

"Out."

"Now?" Sam glances at the clock. It's 10:45. "It's Thursday."

"Dude, I'm not an idiot." Dean checks himself out in the discolored mirror that they share in their room.

"That's debatable." Sam muses.

"Shut up."

"He'll find out."

"He won't"

"He always does."

"Not always."

Sam shuts his book. "Almost always. Dean, don't do it."

Dean grins. "Ah, ye of little faith." He opens the window and steps out into the night.

XXX

He doesn't even have to climb into her window, she leaves the back door unlocked and the light out and meets him in the kitchen. All breathy moans and tongue. They stumble past the fridge and back their way into the living room. She reaches for his shirt and pulls it up over his head. He grins in the half light of the living room. "How come I'm the only one half naked?"

Josie giggles, "Not for long." Then to prove a point she pulls her shirt off and then she is in her bra, pale white breasts pressed together like they are God's gift to man. Dean dives in between her breast, breathes in girl and licks a quick swipe of his tongue. She tastes like sweat. Amazing girl sweat and he bucks his hips in her direction.

"Jesus."

She giggles again. "Dean, not enough naked."

Dean obliges, dragging his head from her boobs and unlatches her bra one handed then unsnaps his jeans and pulls them down.

"No underwear. I like. " Josie notices and then moans. She reaches for him as she is trying to shimmy out of her own jeans.

"Bedroom?" Dean asks.

"Later." She mumbles and bites him in the neck then soothes the mark with a gentle tongue.

Dean is beyond crazy. It takes all of his considerable lack of self control not to come right in the living room.

He pushes her down on the couch. Dear God, she is wearing pink panties. The kind that barely cover anything but with a touch of lace. Dean wonders if her mother has ever washed them or if Josie does it herself. He kind of doubts her mom would appreciate the lack of fabric. He laughs low at the thought.

"What's so funny?" She looks up from under his weight licks a stripe from his nipples to his neck.

"Nothing. Oh, God. Just nothing."

There is the tiniest bit of fabric between his dick and her. A small nudge and he will be home. But he remembers the condom and leans over the couch to fumble for his jeans.

"Wait a minute, sweetheart."

She sighs – a frustrated sound and then slaps his ass while he is indisposed searching for the condom. The sting just makes his erection harder. If such a thing is possible.

"Fuck." He whispers low.

"Yes, please." Josie responds.

He finds the foil package and rips it open with his teeth trying to roll it down over his dick as fast as possible.

Then the door opens and Sheriff Doherty walks in with his wife on his arm.

The lights flick on and in an instant everything goes to hell in a hand basket.

XXX

Dean's fast. He's always been fast. But he has a condom on his dick and he is completely naked. Josie is naked too, except for those barely there panties. It's one of those situations you can never really prepare for. It's not like hunting where you practice and spar and train. There is no training that can prepare him for this.

Well, he has faced enraged fathers before but that has been his father. Not the girl's father. It turns out that fathers who come into their living room at midnight to find their daughters splayed out on the couch with sixteen-year-old naked boys are formidable.

The fact that this particular father carries a gun makes things oh so much worse.

Dean blames it on his dick. He does. Because he can't think and he can't get away fast enough. He'd leave his jeans on the floor and high tail it naked if he could get his brain to engage but he can't.

All he can do is give that deer in a headlights look as Sheriff Doherty grabs his arm and pushes him to his knees in a professional cop move that has Dean's knees and even his dick getting rug burn. The cuffs are on him before he has a chance to react.

Mrs. Doherty is yelling and it's not even ENGLISH. She grabs her daughter and starts swatting her ass and chasing her up the steps boobs swinging and little pink panties not even covering the flare of red from her mother's hard hands.

Not that Dean has too much time to watch.

Dear God. It doesn't get any worse than this. He is naked with a condom on his swiftly deflating erection, kneeling handcuffed on the floor of the sheriff's living room.

Dean's trying to breath and use some of that swagger that he is so damn proud of but it just doesn't work in this situation.

The sheriff pulls his gun out and lays it carefully on the coffee table.

"And who do we have here?" The man growls low. Just as low as his father. Dean eyes the gun up and the threat is so fucking obvious there is nothing he can do but answer.

"Dean Winchester, sir."

"So Dean Winchester, I'd ask you to explain, but I really don't wanna hear. I do however want to shoot you. You'd understand why right?"

Dean gulps.

"Yes, sir. I'd rather you not though."

The sheriff nods his head. "Lots of paperwork, boy. And a cover up that I'd rather not be a part of. But it's doable. I come home to find a boy breaking and entering my house, raping my daughter. I'm an upstanding citizen and the head cop. I can fudge this just as easy as I take a shit in the morning."

"Yes, sir."

Dean is sweating now. It's understandable. Naked with a cop, a gun and a condom.

"But you know what kid? I'm a father too. Which means I know what it would be like to lose my Josie. So I'm gonna cut you some slack. I want to shoot you. I really do but your folks would probably grieve for you. Sorry sack of shit that you are; so maybe I'll wound you. It could be really painful but you'd be alive. Then again, there's still the paperwork. And what if I miss? I don't miss often but I have to admit, I'm a little tired and really angry. I don't have quite the accuracy when I'm tired. Also, I'm not a cold blooded killer." Doherty stopped and thought for a moment, "However, this is heat of the moment shit, so maybe cold blooded wouldn't be the right word to use. Honestly, even if I didn't fudge it, no jury around here would convict me."

"Sir, really…call my dad." Dean can't believe the words coming out of his mouth. But he has no choice. Death from the sheriff seems a lot worse than the ass whipping his father is going to hand him.

And he is going to get his ass whipped – if he survives this that is. Dean wonders what his dad would do if he got shot. Well, if the shot didn't kill him, he still might get his ass kicked. If he died? Well, he figured Dad would be sad and Sammy would too. He fucked his up on every level possible. For a minute he almost cries. He's just sixteen. Death by a ghost doesn't seem that bad, death by a raging homicidal cop father seems somehow so much worse.

"Call your dad? How do I know that's gonna do anything? What if he's some deadbeat who doesn't give a shit? I mean look at you – out all hours of the night trying to fuck my daughter in my own living room. Or what if he's one of those pansy ass flower power people who wants to chant and hold hands." Doherty leans over to gaze at Dean, blue eyes blazing.

Dean is going to die.

"No, no, sir. He's not. He's a former Marine. He...he's gonna be pissed and he's gonna kill me. I promise."

Doherty steps away and settles himself in the chair that faces Dean. Dean drops his head. In a long line of embarrassing stuff he's done, this has got to be the most embarrassed he has ever felt. From his chest to his face he is blazing hot. He can hear Josie upstairs crying but he's not sure if she got her ass beat or if she is crying for some other reason. He really forgot about the girl for a few moments.

"Please, Sheriff Doherty, call my dad." Dean tries to keep the hitch from his breath. Maybe he's not such a tough guy.

The sheriff seems to consider for a moment then picks up the phone next to him on the table.

"Give me your number."

XXX

Doherty leaves him cuffed and naked, kneeling on the floor. Dean can't blame him but it's horrible waiting for his father. Mrs. Doherty comes down once. She stops in front of him and gives him a sharp slap across the face. "Don't you ever come back here again."

"Yes, ma'am." He says and he can barely spit that out. Christ, he's naked in her living room! The slap stings but it doesn't really hurt and then she goes back upstairs.

For some reason having that mom slap almost hurts him more that the undignified position he is in. What if it was his mom? What if it was her daughter? What if it was his SISTER?

Jesus, he can't take much more.

Luckily he doesn't have to. Not five minutes later there is a sharp rap at the door and Doherty stands to let in one very, very pissed John Winchester.

His father and the sheriff eye each other up like wolves circling. It's a subtle dance but the sheriff seems to like what he sees. At least he's apparently pretty sure that Dean wasn't lying about his father.

"This your boy?"

His father glances at Dean.

"Unfortunately."

That hurts. But again, Dean gets it.

"I told you all I know on the phone Winchester but I'm telling you now. I ever see this boy around my girl, I'm gonna personally kick his ass. My Josie just got her butt roasted by her mom and how you handle your kid is your business. It takes two to tango and I ain't dumb enough to think that your kid is the only one involved. But I don't give a shit. Take him out and make sure I don't see him again."

"Can you take off the cuffs so the boy can get on his pants?"

The sheriff grunts but apparently that isn't too much of a request because he grabs Dean from behind and pulls him to a stand in perfect cop fashion. Then he uncuffs him and pushes him toward his father, flinging the jeans after him.

"Don't know where his shirt is and I don't really give a fuck."

Dad nods and makes a rough gesture for Dean to put on his jeans. There's a moment when Dean doesn't know what to do with the condom. Taking it off and leaving it there seems wrong. Leaving it on seems bad too. He opts for on because he wants out of that house so fast he can't see straight.

"Apologize."

Once his pants are up, Dean breathes a little easier but he still finds that looking at the sheriff isn't all that easy to do. Still, he was raised to look a man in the eye and own up to his mistakes so he does.

"I'm sorry, sir."

Doherty nods. "Get out."

His father grabs him by the arm and pulls-drags him to the front door bare-chested and barely zipped up. Dean spots his shoes on the floor and snags them on the way out.

There is silence on the ride home. Dean glances at his dad a time or two, a covert look that does nothing to make him feel any better. His dick feels all cruddy with the condom on and his jeans are just rubbing making everything more uncomfortable.

Plus there is the John Winchester factor which makes everything so much worse in so many ways.

Dean doesn't say anything though. He waits for the car to stop out front of their rented house and then he slides out of the passenger seat with as much contriteness he can offer. It's hard as hell to do but it doesn't seem to make a difference because Dad slams the car door to the Impala in a way that he would have yelled at Dean for doing and then stalks up to the house. Dean follows head down and dragging his feet.

Once inside his father rounds on him.

"What the fuck were you doing? Never mind…I know what the fuck you were doing." He shakes his head, "Why the fuck were you doing it? Never mind…I know why you were doing it." His father rubs a hand over his beard.

God, his father has gone crazy and Dean is the one who made him crazy.

"Dad, I'm sorry. I just…" right then Sam comes down the steps not even a little groggy, doubtlessly awoken by the call or maybe he'd still been reading his geeky book.

"You guys okay?" Sam asks. It's a bit of a dangerous question because no one is okay and that is as obvious as the nose on anyone's face.

"Fine." Dad says tightly, "Go to bed. It's late."

Sam seems to think about an answer to that but decides that safety is the better part of valor, "Yes, sir." He offers Dean an "I told you so." look but doesn't say anything else. For that Dean is thankful. Sam trots up the steps fast, apparently not wanting anymore to do with whatever happens in the living room.

"Damn it, Dean. Just DAMN IT!" Dad slams a fist hard on to the already rickety coffee table. It makes an audible crunch but doesn't break. Dean swallows and just stands there.

"Can I?" Dean waves a hand vaguely around his crotch.

"No. I mean, yes. Drop your jeans anyway take off the damn condom and put yourself over that couch."

His dick is so shrunken in horror that he can barely get it off. His fingers tremble as he tries to pull it off discretely.

"Do you need help?" Dad growls.

"No, sir." Dean doesn't either but he feels as nervous as a ghost in a room of full of iron pokers.

He completes the task, throws the condom in a nearby trashcan and drops his jeans then leans over the couch. He's completely naked – although that has been the state of affairs for the past hour or so. Only about ten minutes of that was any fun.

He can hear his father pull the belt from his belt hoops. It's an ominous sound. Dad doesn't often spank with a belt, but he's pulled it out on occasion when he feels the situation warrants it.

Obviously this does.

Dad thrashes him hard. Belt on ass is never a good thing. It hurts and it raises a welt that a hand spanking doesn't. But it leaves an impression in more than just _that _way. It means Dad is really, really angry and that Dean has really screwed the pooch.

His father doesn't give him time to talk in between licks, doesn't lecture, doesn't do anything really but keep up a steady stroke on stroke. It doesn't really take that long and despite the wicked heat in his butt it's nothing he can't handle.

It doesn't mean he doesn't cry, because when John Winchester decides to wallop a boy, he just naturally cries.

It's over pretty quick but that does little to stop Dean's aching butt. He grabs his jeans and dear lord, why did he not wear underwear? Because pulling them up over his red ass hurts like hell. Not as bad as running through the house naked but he's spent more than enough time balls in view of everyone tonight to even make that an option.

"You're grounded. Don't know for how long so don't ask."

Dean nods, not trusting himself to speak.

"Can't hear your head rattle, son."

"Yes, sir."

"Get your ass to bed."

"Yes, sir."

Dean double times it up the stairs. Each step is a sharp sting as the rough fabric of his jeans rub against his sensitive ass.

A moment later he is in the room with Sammy. He shuts the door and drops his jeans then goes right for the sweat pants in the top drawer.

"Jesus…" Sam says softly, "You are gonna be standing for dinner for the next week."

"Shut up." But there is no heat in it. None of this is Sam's fault.

Dean throw himself on the bed, belly down.

"Are you okay?" Sam asks.

"No. My ass hurts and well, nothing really happened so I'm frustrated as hell too."

Sam chuckles low. He's twelve but he's lived with Dean his whole life. He probably knows more about sex than any twelve year old has the right to.

"So hit the bathroom. I won't tell."

Dean grunts. "No way, Little Dean is chafed and miserable too. Words of wisdom little brother, riding around with a condom on your dick with jeans on is a bitch."

Sam laughs then, really laughs. "I don't wanna know."

Dean sighs. "No you don't….just remember not to do it okay?"

Dean curls away from Sam and despite the pain in his ass can feel himself going to sleep.

He dreams of Josie Doherty.


End file.
